


Bloody and Raw

by Magpiie



Series: MadWife - Halloween Specials [2]
Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 11:43:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21197105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magpiie/pseuds/Magpiie
Summary: Most of those who hunt vampires do it out of faithful duty or personal vendetta. They follow rigid moral codes and are passionate about exterminating violent monsters. Sweeney follows no moral code. He is passionate about money and personal satisfaction. One vampire in particular is more than happy to take advantage of this.





	Bloody and Raw

**Author's Note:**

> The second in the MadWife Halloween trio.
> 
> "Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh,  
I lay my heart down with the rest at her feet,  
Fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile,  
It's bloody and raw but I swear it is sweet."  
\- Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene, Hozier

"Alright," Sweeney called to the dark interior of the empty apartment, settling the barrel of his shotgun onto his shoulder. "Come on out." The local police had hired him following a string of grisly murders, and he’d quickly recognised the M.O. It had taken a few days, but he’d tracked the culprit to an abandoned old apartment building. 

"You didn’t have to bring the gun," came her soft reply, and now he was able to just about pick out her silhouette, reclining on an old desk tucked into the corner. Trying to focus his eyes through the gloom, he hummed thoughtfully.  
"You didn’t have to kill those people." That made her turn to look at him: he could see the hard shine of her eyes in the dimness.  
"They weren’t good people," she replied, stare fixed on him. "You’re not gonna do shit. Put your weapons down."  
"Alright, alright," he muttered in response, setting the gun down and nudging it away back behind him with one foot. By the time he’d removed the silver-stocked bandolier from across his shoulder and let it fall to the ground, the monster in the corner was slinking towards him, into the thin sliver of light cast by the streetlamp outside. 

To the untrained eye, she didn’t look dangerous. Those wide, so-dark-they-might-be-black eyes and unblemished skin made her look like a doll, delicate and perfect. She wore black jeans and black boots, and a huge black winter coat, and the knowledge of what she really was lined up against the image of this helpless little woman was just delectable.  
"Thirsty?" he asked, taking one careful step towards her, and she lifted her chin and grinned. He eyed her over-pronounced canines with equal parts trepidation and excitement.  
"Not as thirsty as you, it seems," she teased, reaching forwards to inspect the crucifix around his neck. "You know that whole cross thing is a myth, right?"  
"I like to dress the part. People pay more when it looks like you know what you’re doing."  
"People pay more when you kill the vampires they ask you to kill," she said coolly, raising her eyebrows at him and tutting. He smirked down at her, eyes dark.  
"Can’t help myself."  
"Take off your coat."

His actions were practiced and quick, and he kept his eyes fixed on her as he shrugged off his jacket and unbuckled his belt. Laura licked her lips, slow and deliberate, and his shirt was only unbuttoned halfway down his chest when he closed the distance between them and consumed her mouth in a hungry kiss. His hands were at either side of her head and her hands, cold as marble, closed around his wrists to slide them to the buttons of her jeans. She broke the kiss to murmur against his lips,  
"You’re so fucking bad at your job." He could only laugh in response, and her lips moved to kiss under his jaw. He grunted at every soft nip of teeth, each kiss and suck at his neck, until his hand slipped into her jeans and she groaned hard into the bare curve of his shoulder. The warmth from his hands spread through her cool skin and lingered there, so that he could feel every place he had touched on her.  
"I kill most of 'em," he whispered in her ear as he gently toyed with her clit. "The nasty ones. The bad ones." He used his free hand to tug her waistband down an inch or so, freeing up just enough room to slide a finger inside her.  
"I could be bad," she muttered breathily, beginning to pant, eyes closed. He chuckled.  
"You have been bad," he conceded, adding another finger, and she whined and bucked her hips. Her hands were on his shoulders, holding on tight, fingernails pinching flesh. "You know you have to stop that." He worked his fingers inside her, slow and precise, and watched her face as it twitched and twisted with every sensation. "I’m starting to think you act up on purpose just so I have to come and tell you off."  
"Is it that obvious?" she murmured, rolling her hips with him for a few moments before pushing at his wrist. "Hurry up." 

Her eyes met his and a shiver ran up his spine: they were wild now, almost entirely black, and there was a hint of a growl at the back of her throat when she spoke. She turned and hurried back to the desk in the corner and he followed her, fumbling to unfasten his jeans and push them down just far enough that when he joined her he had only to lift her up onto the table and bury himself inside her. Her ear was pressed to his chest as he thrust into her over and over and he knew she could hear the dull thud of his heart and the roar of blood in his veins, knew that she was growing practically feral with the sound of it, knew how delighted she would be by the taste of it. The thought of it sent a sick jolt of desire through him.

Damn, he really was bad at his job. 

He flinched and hissed in pain when her teeth sank into the soft flesh at the base of his neck, but the pain soon abated into a pleasant sensation of heat blooming over his chest and shoulder. She moaned softly as she lapped up the blood rising in the fresh wound, trickling down his skin, pooling in the hollow of his collarbone. Every movement of her lips and tongue against his skin felt like bliss, so intense that he struggled to maintain the pace of his thrusts. By the time he came, his movements were hard and desperate. He wrapped his arms around her and let his eyes close, revelling in the lightheaded comedown and the warped intimacy, and finally she replaced her mouth with a cold hand pressed firmly into his neck. The bleeding would stop quick, and the marks would fade almost entirely after a few days. Until then, he’d have to be careful to keep it covered.  
"That was good," Laura panted, wiping his blood from her mouth with the back of her sleeve. He tucked himself back into his jeans and took a few moments to catch his breath.  
"You know, if you’d stop playing vampire vigilante, we could do this more often." She watched him re-button his shirt. "I could help you lie low if you’d stop getting into trouble."  
"I’ll consider it," she muttered, sliding off the table and striding past him to the door, stepping carefully over the discarded weapons. "Until next time, vampire hunter."


End file.
